


Know It Lovingly

by RetroactiveCon



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Body Worship, Chubby Leonard Snart, M/M, Mention of eating disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:13:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21652066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetroactiveCon/pseuds/RetroactiveCon
Summary: “Your scars?” Barry murmurs. He’s seen Len’s scars before, although admittedly he hasn’t had the chance to study them up close. During the day, Len covers them with long-sleeve shirts and occasionally his parka. Barry had assumed this was to avoid having to explain them to curious passersby. Evidently, it’s more than that.“Not all of us are as fortunate as you are, Scarlet.” Len pushes himself up on his elbows. Barry sits back on his heels to give him more space. This draws his attention to the scars in question: raised pearly lines, shallow grooves, and round sunken imprints of gunshot wounds. He traces absentminded fingers over a jagged scar near Len’s left hip. “Most of us have our history written on our skin.”
Relationships: Barry Allen/Leonard Snart
Comments: 9
Kudos: 134





	Know It Lovingly

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from Hozier's "Moment's Silence (Common Tongue)", because I'm terrible with titles.
> 
> Also, I know this is a sensitive topic, and certainly it's a very personal one (I wound up projecting onto Len in this fic a lot more than I should have). If you think I handled something poorly, tell me and I'll be sure to fix it!

“Patience, Scarlet.” 

It’s a familiar remonstrance. Usually, Barry obeys, although he might whine or plead to make Len move at something closer to his speed. Tonight, he pulls back and pouts. “I’m not impatient,” he says, nuzzling against Len’s jaw. “I just want to kiss you.” 

Len probably thinks his pause is too short for Barry to notice. Without his superspeed, it might be; with it, it feels like over a minute. “You want to mark me up, Scarlet?” It’s said like a joke, but his voice is tight. 

“Not if you don’t want me to.” Barry hadn’t meant to cross any lines; he just wanted to explore. After multiple times sleeping together, he hasn’t had a chance to learn Len’s body the way Len has learned his. Until now, he hadn’t considered that might have been deliberate. “Do you…do you not want me to see…?” 

“There’s nothing to see.” Len grabs a handful of his hair and pulls. Barry moans and lets his head fall back. Warm lips brush against the tender skin below the angle of his jaw. When Len speaks, his breath fans across Barry’s neck, warm and humid and ticklish. “I’m not what most would call ‘attractive.’” 

Barry props himself up on his elbows. “You really think that?” 

Len makes a soft, unhappy sound at being dislodged from his comfortable spot. “I’ve heard it often enough.”

Barry flips them over. Len sprawls on his back with a startled huff and pulls Barry down on top of him. He lands on Len’s chest and can’t suppress a giggle. “Oof, okay. This is good.” 

Len’s cool hands cradle Barry’s shoulders. He pushes himself up just enough to study Len’s face. His smile is indulgent, but his eyes are wary. “You want to be on top tonight, Scarlet?” 

Barry kisses him. It’s as much an apology as it is a reassurance: he never wanted to be the reason for that careful withdrawn look in Len’s eyes. To his relief, Len kisses back. 

Barry doesn’t pause for breath before kissing a path down Len’s neck to the dip of his collarbones. Len stiffens under his touch moments before his lips brush raised tissue. 

“Your scars?” Barry murmurs. He’s seen Len’s scars before, although admittedly he hasn’t had the chance to study them up close. During the day, Len covers them with long-sleeve shirts and occasionally his parka. Barry had assumed this was to avoid having to explain them to curious passersby. Evidently, it’s more than that. 

“Not all of us are as fortunate as you are, Scarlet.” Len pushes himself up on his elbows. Barry sits back on his heels to give him more space. This draws his attention to the scars in question: raised pearly lines, shallow grooves, and round sunken imprints of gunshot wounds. He traces absentminded fingers over a jagged scar near Len’s left hip. “Most of us have our history written on our skin.” 

“I don’t want to make you feel bad.” Barry skims his fingers from one scar to another. “I just want you to know that your scars don’t make you unattractive to me.”

Len musters a low laugh that rings false in Barry’s ears. “I’m old, fat, and scarred, Scarlet—hardly the stuff of dreams. Come here, kiss me, and put all these sweet intentions out of mind.”

Barry dodges his grasping hand. “That’s what you think of yourself?” he demands. 

Len forces a smile that doesn’t warm his wary eyes. “I have a preponderance of evidence. Now, I told you to kiss me, Scarlet. Are you sure you want to disobey?” 

Barry could lean down, kiss him, and surrender control to him. It would be the easy, familiar game, but tonight he doesn’t want familiar. “No, we’re not playing that game tonight. I want this to be about you. It makes me feel selfish that you’re always taking care of me.” 

Len pauses again. Like before, it’s longer for Barry because of his speed: a few seconds stretch like they’ve been frozen in amber. It ends when Len lays back against the pillows, his arms spread slightly out from his sides in unspoken invitation. Barry kisses him in thanks before scooting down to explore. 

“Beautiful,” he whispers before pressing his lips to the ghost of a gunshot wound. It’s an echo of the first time they slept together, when Len had said the same thing upon first seeing Barry laid out for him. He means it as much now as Len had then. No doubt it’s as hard for Len to hear it as it had been for him.

Len skims gentle fingers through his hair. “Don’t put yourself off sex to make me feel better, Scarlet.”

Barry makes a soft, sympathetic sound in his throat. He understands what Len means—on his worst days, he still feels the same way—but nothing could be further from the truth. The best way to convince him is to continue, so continue he does. At first, he means to lavish kisses on Len’s scars, but he gets distracted by _belly_ and spends several blissful minutes kissing the softness around Len’s middle. 

“Lose your train of thought?” Some of that wonderful teasing warmth has returned to Len’s voice. Barry glances up, too content to be ashamed. 

“Yeah. You’re so _cozy.”_

Len arches an eyebrow. “I forgot. You like that I’m bigger than you.” The wicked grin that flashes across his face speaks volumes about why he thinks Barry enjoys their size difference. He’s not wrong—Barry loves being pinned down—but this is more than that. Right now, he’d be just as happy to curl into Len’s arms and simply feel small, protected, and held. 

“Mhmm,” he agrees. Now that Len seems more at ease, he pulls himself back up to give him a kiss. Len immediately takes control, forcing Barry to open up. Barry groans into the kiss. He’s not aware of moving until Len crooks a knee between his thighs and he almost comes. _“Fuck!”_

“Mouthy, Scarlet.” Len rubs his thigh slowly over Barry’s cock. “You continue to compound your errors.” 

“I’m trying to be good to you,” Barry murmurs. He needs to come, thinks he’ll die of it otherwise, but he meant what he said earlier: this is about Len. “It just means that I can’t be good _for_ you.”

Len’s thumb brushes the corner of Barry’s lips. His eyes skim across Barry’s face, warm and indulgent in a way Barry has seldom seen directed at anyone else. “I know, Scarlet.”

Barry kisses his way back down Len’s chest. He has a goal in mind, but once again, he finds himself sidetracked by Len’s belly and thighs. Some three minutes after he gets distracted, Len nudges his shoulder. “That can’t possibly be as entertaining as you seem to think. Also, it tickles.” 

Barry perks up. “You’re ticklish?” 

Wisely, Len opts not to answer. “Is this the prelude to something more stimulating, or are you just playing?” 

“Both.” He nuzzles the tender skin at the crease of Len’s thigh. When he turns his head, he’s able to brush his lips along Len’s shaft, mostly hard and so, so hot. It’s tempting to continue kissing and licking until Len begs, but he’s nowhere near that patient. Instead, he wraps his lips around the head and presses down until the blunt tip nudges his throat. Len groans and makes an aborted little thrusting motion. Barry presses a hand to his hip to hold him still. It isn’t that he minds having his face fucked—most nights, he likes nothing better than to relax and let Len use him however he wants—but tonight, he wants Len to lay back and let him do the work. 

After the first couple of strokes, Len gets the idea. He tangles his fingers in Barry’s hair to ground himself and lets Barry set the pace. “Look at you.” 

Barry moans and almost chokes himself. If Len talks to him, he’s not going to last.

“You love this, don’t you? Giving yourself over to me like this.” He tugs lightly on Barry’s hair. Barry’s hips stutter against the mattress. This is too much, all of it, and if he doesn’t speed up he’ll come before Len but for once in his life he really, really wants to go slow… “If you could see yourself right now, Scarlet. About to come just from my cock in your mouth and my hand in your hair, and still trying to be so good for me…”

Barry glances up, and that’s his mistake. Len is watching him like he’s the only thing in the world. One glimpse of the heat in his keen eyes, and Barry is lost. He’s dimly aware of vibrating fast enough to rock the bed and wrench a garbled moan from Len, but he lacks the control to stop himself. 

When the last, shivery aftershocks of his orgasm have run through him, he tries to open his eyes. His lashes stick together, and when he scrunches his face in confusion, a warm, raspy voice says, “I wouldn’t do that until I get you cleaned up, Scarlet.” 

Obediently, Barry keeps his eyes closed. He makes a show of wrinkling his nose and poking out his tongue. “On my _face,_ though?” 

A cool cloth swipes over his face. It lingers near his eyes, cleaning his lashes until they’re no longer sticky. “Not deliberate, Scarlet. You pulled back.” 

“Oh.” Barry blinks his eyes open. Len brushes a thumb against the corner of his eye and smiles at him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Len parrots. His eyes are warm and soft, his smile small and genuine. Barry feels an instant rush of satisfaction. When he earns that particular look, he’s been good. 

“Was that good for you?” 

Len sets the rag aside and curls beside him in bed. Barry burrows into his side and lays his head on Len’s shoulder. “Yes, Scarlet. I wasn’t sure about you turning it around, but it wasn’t torture.”

It’s the closest Len will come to admitting he was wrong. Barry skims his hand up Len’s belly and rests it over his sternum. “I liked this. You might not believe me, but I like your body.”

Len arches an eyebrow. “You proved that well enough.”

Barry hums and presses his lips to the curve of Len’s neck. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I didn’t want to.”

“You did.” Len never lies to make him feel better. It’s one of many things Barry appreciates. “But it wasn’t as bad as I thought. I’ll never be the model of body positivity…”

“I skip meals because I’m so scrawny nobody will notice,” Barry reminds him. “I’m not in a position to try to force you to feel good about your body. I just want you to know that _I_ like it, even if there are days when you really don’t.” 

Len kisses the top of his head. “Back at you, Scarlet. Now, I was under the impression that you wanted me to pin you down and make you feel small.”

Two minutes later, tucked against Len as the little spoon, Barry does indeed feel small, protected, and amazingly cherished. When he says as much, Len kisses the nape of his neck and rumbles, “Glad I can be of service, Scarlet.” 

Barry almost utters a thoughtless “I love you,” something he hasn’t yet been brave enough to say. Thankfully, he’s asleep before the words leave his lips.


End file.
